by Allison Pang
A gentle smile crossed his face. “I know.”
I touched the scar on my head. “I’ve always kind of wondered why they didn’t try to heal the rest of me. The Royal Healers, that is. Seems like a bit of a waste, doesn’t it?”
He shrugged into his shirt. “Why would they? You didn’t earn the others while you were in Moira’s service.”
“Practical. All right then. So you’ve got some issues. And you have flaws.” I smacked my lips. “I’m going to have to say, I don’t care much. Just don’t fuck up.”
He blinked, carefully replacing the patch over his eye. “Is that all?”
“Yeah well, something tells me you’re a fast learner. And it’s only temporary, right? Until we get Moira back.”
“Famous last words,” Phineas muttered. “And speaking of, don’t you have the Dreaming to get into? Succubi to chat up? Messages to pass along? Our asses to save?”
I glared at him, scooping up the remainder of the food. “All right, all right. I’m on it. As soon as I can fall asleep, anyway.” I winced at the light streaming through the window. I always had a tough time napping deeply enough to get to the Dreaming, but I would try.
I headed for my bedroom, the unicorn trotting at my heels. On impulse, I looked behind me, my gaze meeting Talivar’s as he stood in the kitchen, watching us go. “Good luck,” he mouthed, one hand sliding over his mouth as though he were going to kiss the palm. I felt the blush creeping over my cheeks, but said nothing as I carefully shut the door behind me.
Ten
The Dreaming seemed empty tonight. Dimmer maybe. I’d gotten here the usual way, but even my nightmares couldn’t be bothered with me; the sharks kept their distance, dead eyes focused somewhere else.
Not a good sign.
Still. I was here, sitting on the front porch of my Heart. I closed my eyes, the breeze whispering its way through the darkness, tickling the back of my neck. It was always night here. I didn’t know if it was my subconscious or the state of my mind, the inner darkity-dark reaches of my soul or what. There were times when I wouldn’t mind a little dream sunshine, but I hadn’t quite mastered the whole weather thing.
The iron gate was closed—the way I’d left it—but there was no sign of Sonja. Sometimes she would wait for me on the outside; sometimes she’d show up after the fact. I trotted down the stairs, the gate opening with a creak as I approached. “Sonja?”
I stepped out onto the path and eyed the road to the beach. The air felt damp that way, the taste of brine and death carried in the distant sound of the waves. I frowned, wondering how long I should wait. Perhaps I could leave a note? The thought of using a Dream Post-it struck me as funny, but I wasn’t sure I had that option.
I kicked around the gate for a few moments more, my hands absently rubbing along the rusted frame as I glanced at the forest behind the house. Did Brystion know about the CrossRoads being closed? Assuming he was even here and not trapped somewhere on the other side like the rest of them.
The thought twisted harder in my gut than I expected it to.
“Fuck it.” There were bigger things at stake here than my wounded pride. Sooner or later I was going to have to cop to the fact that I had actual responsibilities. I’d look for the incubus, and if he wasn’t there I’d leave a note for Sonja … Ion … whoever happened to stumble through. And if there was no answer to that … well, then I’d just have to see about breaking through to the CrossRoads, Shadow Self or not.
My mind made up, I retreated into the house, happy enough to find writing materials. For all that Sonja claimed I could control this place, more often it controlled itself, weaving bits and pieces drawn from the memories I’d had when I actually lived here. The notepad magnet on the fridge was straight out of my childhood, right down to the torn cardboard backing, the words “Chopin Liszt” scrawled at the top, complete with a bust of each of the composers. Ah yes, family dorkitude, for the win.
It would be good enough, I decided, knowing I was stalling. “Time to man up, Abby.”
Sighing, I slipped out the kitchen door and onto the patio, surrounded by a wild garden. What had started as a few small bushes had become a monstrous tangle of creeping thorns. It had grown up all around the house, soft and beckoning with roses.
I paused at the edge of the garden, the crickets chirping cheerfully in the grass leading into the forest. Trees loomed on either side, hawthorn and ash and slender birch. A gentle willow beckoned me to sit upon a woven bench curling with vines and thick with wisteria.
My hand stroked the rough bark, the leaves of the tree tangling gently in my hair.
“It’s very pretty, Ion. But I’m not here to play games. There’s a lot of shit going down and I … I need your help.” The words stumbled from my mouth, even as my ears strained for the sound of bells.
Silence.
I scowled at the bench. Eight months ago, the incubus had sought out the Protectorate, looking for help to find his missing sister.
He’d found me instead.
His accidental TouchStoning of me had led into an intimacy far greater than anything I’d been prepared for. In a fit of romantic pique I’d offered him the one thing no incubus could ever have—a Dreaming Heart of his own. Or at least a piece of mine. The offer had been given freely, without strings attached, and I had no plans to renege on it, but it still stung, knowing that he’d left me anyway.
“Evening, Abby.” Brystion’s whisper crept past me, the heated slide of his voice coiling like an ember in my belly, but the sharp nip of his teeth upon the back of my neck snapped me to reality quick enough. “Whoa there, Prancer.” My head jerked up at the intrusion. Hurt flashed in his golden eyes for half a moment and then he gave me a tight-lipped smile.
He’d chosen to appear in his daemonic form this time and for some reason the intimacy of it wounded me all the more. His skin shone a luminous blue-black, the spiral markings on his flesh glowing with a silver light reminiscent of the CrossRoads. Great crystalline antlers burst from his brow as though he was the living incarnation of some ancient forest god. He should have seemed monstrous to me, I suppose, standing there with the lower half of a stag and the upper torso of man, but he didn’t.
He never had.
Cupped ears flickered as he absently rubbed an antler on the willow, close to where I’d touched it.
“Marking your territory?”
“Maybe. Maybe I’m just stopping by to check on you. I don’t know.” One hoof stomped the ground. “Watching you, I guess.”
“You do that a lot,” I observed, trying not to do something stupid. Like throw myself into his arms. I’d forgotten how strong the pull between us could be. More the fool, me—though judging by the halo of gold in his eyes, he hadn’t forgotten.
“Not as much as you might think.” The long length of his tail twitched like a cat’s. “Enough to see how your training is going.”
“And? What do you think?” As much as I wanted to cut to the meat of why I was here, it was hard not to break away from the small talk.
He brushed by me, staring out into the woods as though he hadn’t heard. “Does it matter?”
I bristled. “No, it doesn’t.”
He paused at the edges of the garden, head raised to sniff the breeze. “What I meant was that your performance in the Dreaming isn’t really why you’re here.” The expectant hush of a required answer bled through the pronounced innocence of his statement. A warning lingered there too.
He’d once threatened to kill me if I lied to him. Even though I knew he’d never go through with it now, the implication that I owed him the truth was quite clear.
Which was a crock of shit as far as I was concerned. His lies to me may have been born from desperation and not malice, but that hadn’t made them any less devastating. I let the question hang there, my will clashing against his expectation.
“The Faery Queen has closed the CrossRoads,” I said finally.
His head whipped back to face me. “She what?”
I laid it out for him quickly, his eyes narrowing as I chronicled Tresa’s appearance and the seizures, the spell and Moira’s disappearance.
“Well that explains that,” he muttered. “If I’ve never expressed my sympathy properly for your medical condition, let me just say I appreciate it a bit more now.”
“Where were you when it happened?”
“Here, actually. Or,” he paused, “the Dreaming, anyway. Maybe not here exactly.”
My lips compressed into a thin smile, trying to ignore the ache clenching up my chest. “Was she good?”
“She wasn’t you, but she did well enough.” The incubus coughed uncomfortably.
“Yeah, I don’t think I really want to know.” And I didn’t. Far too much history here, but he had been the one to walk away. On the other hand, the guy had to eat and I couldn’t resent that. Much. Just sucked that his methods of sustenance required some form of sex to work.
He let out a regretful chuckle. “And you? Sharing your bed with anyone else these days?”
“None of your business,” I retorted tartly. Not really fair of me to snap at him given my own line of questions, but there it was.
“No, I suppose not.” We stared at each other for a moment, then, a subtle longing urging me to step toward him. I grasped the corner of the bench to steady myself. He remained motionless except for his lion’s tail, swishing in a lazy motion. Eventually he shuddered, shaking his body like a dog. “So, why are you here?”
“I—that is—we, were hoping that you might be able to help us get a message through to the Faery Queen. Assuming you can reach Faerie at all. We don’t know how things stand there and Moira needs to know about what’s going on with her son and Tresa, and all the rest of it.”
His ears flattened. “No.”
“Why not?” I grabbed his wrist, nearly gasping at the warmth coming off his skin. “We need you, Ion!”
He snatched his hand away as though I’d burned him. “What would be the point?”
“What’s the matter with you?”
He frowned. “This. This isn’t your job. Hell, if you’re no longer required to be Contracted to Moira, why not let them figure it out?”
“Well, what else am I supposed to do? Sit around and watch everyone fade?” A ripple of frustration washed through me. “You think I could live with myself if something happened to Benjamin? Something I might have been able to prevent?” I tugged sharply on his ear when he refused to look at me. “And if I’d been so practical about Sonja when you came to me looking for help—is that what you would have preferred?”
His face softened, ears twitching as he crouched below the tree, cloven feet tucked beneath him. “No. I just don’t get why it’s always got to be you.”
I sank to my knees beside him. “Question of the week. I’m a Dreamer, remember? A Dreamer and a KeyStone and now I’m going to be the TouchStone of the new goddamned Protectorate. Who else would do it?”
“It’s a Faery concern,” he pointed out. “And they’re using you. And this … Talivar seems able enough. Surely there’s another mortal who could take up the burden this time.”
I cocked my head at him. “This isn’t like you, Ion. Why does it matter so much to you what I do? I mean, other than the obvious?”
“What the hell kind of question is that?” he snapped, lurching to his feet. “You were my TouchStone, Abby. You think I want to see you hurt? Or captured? This bullshit with Maurice is not something you should be dealing with.” He glanced down at himself. “And I can’t keep rushing in to rescue you.”
“Fine. Then don’t.” I struggled to my own feet, stung. “I’m sorry I even bothered asking. I’ll just wait for Sonja. After all, you pawned me off on her once before. Might as well stay the course, right?”
He flinched. “I didn’t pawn you off on her. At least, not intentionally.”
“You know what they say about intentions, don’t you? Keep in mind that if something happens to me, you’ll lose this.” I gestured around the garden. “And then what will you do?”
His ears flattened and he lowered his head, his hooves scuffing at the grass.
“I dislike arguing,” he said finally. “And I dislike arguing over stupid things. And I truly dislike arguing over stupid things with you.” His hand slid over my wrist, clawed finger glittering. “This is beyond us. Beyond you.”
I flushed at his words. “And how would you know?”
“I know you, Abby. If I were blinded and deafened and crippled, I would still know you.” He pulled back so that his eyes bore into mine. “There is no part of you that I do not know, save what bits you choose to hide from yourself. And those are enough.” His tail lashed over the furred hocks, unable to contain his irritation. “That’s why I suggested Sonja. I don’t think she’d let any feelings for you get in the way of what you need to be taught.”
“Noble of you, but too much booty call really shouldn’t be an excuse.”
His ebony skin grew darker still and I knew he was blushing. “When I see you here, standing in the Dreaming … I can think of nothing else. You shine so brightly and I am so utterly helpless before it.”
My lips pursed. “I think you’re full of crap. Whatever your issues are, they’ve got less to do with me than whatever you’re afraid of.”
Anger simmered beneath his suddenly coal black eyes. “You want to talk fear, Abby? You want to see what it is you haven’t confronted yet? What you can’t control?” He drew himself up, making a careless gesture with his wrist. The air around us grew frosty, the forest fading into silence.
Instinctively, I wrapped my will around the Dreaming, shielding like Sonja had taught me. Brystion let out a humorless laugh, snapping his fingers. Abruptly the darkness loomed around us, the familiar things of my Dreaming Heart shattered like so much dust. An arc of silver light encircled the place where we stood, the crescent edges of an ephemeral bubble cocooning us in a shield more powerful than anything I’d ever been able to make.
I peered into the void, making out small sparks of light in the far distance, fireflies winking in and out of existence. “What is this?”
“The Dreaming. All of it.” Brystion’s voice was without inflection, his face flat as he stared out into the distance. “Each ball of light is another Dreaming Heart. Sonja spoke to you of being able to travel between them, but you will never manage it.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Look.” He inclined his head toward the front of the bubble. I followed his line, my knees wavering as a tooth-filled mouth brushed up against the barrier. It should have swallowed us whole, its gaping maw large enough to have driven a Mack truck through. The shadow of another one slinked past, dorsal fin cutting through the void with predatory ease.
It seemed my nightmares had taken on monstrous proportions again. I shrank back when another approached, circling twice before sliding into the darkness. “Could you make it past them, Abby? Could you allow yourself to be consumed for the chance at actual freedom?”
Wordlessly I shook my head, trying not to vomit. “I thought I was doing better,” I said hoarsely. “Sonja never told me.”
The shield faded into the darkness as the familiar surroundings of my Heart came into view. “You are, but you give your nightmares far too much power.” He cupped my chin so that I was forced to stare into his eyes. “That shield is my payment for staying here, lest you think me merely a freeloading … parasite.” Something sad crossed his face. “I always pay my debts, Abby.”
Anger swelled in my chest, compressing on my lungs until I thought I might burst. “I didn’t ask you to. I offered you this as a gift,” I snapped. “How will I ever manage to learn on my own if you’re always protecting me?”
“You’re reckless,” he whispered. “Heedless of your actions here. You think by just throwing yourself to the wolves you’ll somehow master them.”
“It worked before,” I said, remembering the way I’d been swallowed up by the shark
s in the painting. “Working” being the operative term. I’d survived, anyway.
“You were lucky. Very, very lucky.” His fingers slid from my cheek, his golden eyes filled with regret. “But all the other Dreamers I’ve run into were already trained. I’ve never dealt with one that wasn’t—or one so powerfully haunted by nightmares. I don’t want to fuck it up.”
“So what do I do?”
“I don’t know, but I owe nothing to the Faery Court, regardless of their assumptions. And this mess is of their making.”
“Then it’s become my mess too.” I straightened up. “And if you aren’t willing to help us, I have to go. I’ve got things to do. A world to save. You know—the usual.”
Without consent from my conscious, our fingers entwined as he stroked my wrist with his thumb. I ignored the shiver creeping down my spine, spurred on by a flood of memories. “I am sorry, Abby, but regardless of the situation I will not get involved this time.”
I withdrew my hand from his, disappointment aching in my breast. “You do what you think best, Ion. So will I.” Abruptly I turned and walked away. A jangle of bells sung out discordantly and I knew without looking that he was gone.
“Fuck love, anyway,” I snarled, slamming the door to my house hard enough to make my grandmother’s china rattle against the walls. Hastily I scratched out a message to Sonja with some details, hoping that she might take it upon herself to get the message out. Stomping through the living room, I grimaced at the sudden strength of the potpourri, thick with strawberries.
Mother.
“Not now,” I sighed at it. I taped the note to the outside of the gate; with luck, the succubus would find it.
“Your brother is an ass,” I said aloud to the paper, trying not to wince at the pain bubbling up behind the words.
What had I really expected? That he would just drop everything to help out his fellow OtherFolk? To help me?